Forget Me, Forget Me Not
by CasWithAShotgun
Summary: Once upon a time, Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak were best friends. Unfortunately, nothing lasts forever. Come senior year, bad blood runs between the two. When a "harmless" prank goes wrong and the boy with eyes as bright as forget-me-nots has his memory stolen by a blow to the head, will things change? Will he ever recover, and does Dean really want him to?
1. Chapter 1

Forget Me, Forget Me Not

Chapter 1

_(Author's note: Currently includes themes of homophobia. Watch out if that is a major trigger for you, lovelies)_

* * *

Life had its ups and downs, as the universe had its way of ensuring, but all in all Castiel was satisfied with his life. He had a beautiful girlfriend, a handful of good friends, a herd of siblings...not to mention the stack of money waiting for him in his bank account.

Castiel's family owned a successful business, and though they were extremely strict at times and perhaps took their religion too far, he loved them. He preferred public school to the boarding schools they had forced him to test in the past, and at last they allowed him to go. There were restrictions, of course, keep at least a 3.8 grade point average, have perfect conduct, all of those exciting things. It was worth it. He had a heart of gold, and it was in the right place, just...perhaps not quite as open as it could be. Oblivious to this, Cas went on with his life.

Every day was the same for him, really. He would wake up at six thirty in the morning to the blaring sound of his alarm clock, shower, and spend a good twenty minutes attempting to tame his perpetual bedhead. His girlfriend liked to call it "an angel's sex hair", but he still wasn't much of a fan.

After that and a quick breakfast provided by a sweet woman his father had hired, he'd pack up his overstuffed leather bag with all of his AP books and head out in his own car. Some mornings were worse than others, but he figured that was just how the world worked. He still managed to wake himself up each morning even if it sometimes took three cups of coffee to get the job done, maintaining his perfect attendance record. After that was when he could begin to enjoy his day.

Upon arriving at school, his girlfriend would be waiting for him at his locker each and every day without fail. Today was no exception. Castiel smiled as he walked up to her, his girlfriend all sly smiles and playful touches even this early in the morning. She had her moody days, but Cas could manage. Today was going to be a better day, anyway, he could tell. Besides, it was Friday. Rich and nerdy or not, everybody loved a Friday.

"Hey, baby," Meg greeted with a grin, tugging him down by the tie and planting a kiss on his lips. "How many cups did it take this morning?"

Cas just laughed, returning the kiss with a brush of lips to her forehead, sweeping her hair aside with the back of his hand. "Just one," he replied. "Who could resist a Friday morning with you? Here, I brought you some," he tacked on, handing her a cool cup of her favorite iced coffee. Even with autumn approaching, the air was still warm and a little sticky outside.

Meg flashed her pretty white teeth, threading her free hand in Castiel's hair as she accepted the cup. "You know me so well," she purred, her soft yet skillful hand trailing slowly down to his shoulder as she captured his lips in another kiss.

Cas was just about to risk deepening the kiss just a bit when a strong shoulder smashed into his own, sending him to the ground. He hadn't bothered to open his locker yet, so his books slid out of his bag, sending paper and pens flying through the air. It was just a lucky thing he'd finished his own coffee before getting to school.

"Aw, sorry, was I in your way?" came a smug voice as Castiel began to collect his things, earning a groan from the blue-eyed boy. Jesus Christ Almighty, here we go. He looked up with exasperation etched onto his face, seeing exactly who he'd expected.

Dean Winchester was a quarterback extraordinaire. He was the boy every girl wanted, and even Castiel's own girlfriend had admitted to having a small crush on him once. He was failing almost every class, but he didn't care as long as they didn't threaten to kick him off the team- yet, anyway. He had the popularity, the classic car and the leather jacket, what else could a high school senior with an ego the size of the moon want?

To Castiel, he was nothing but a dick with legs. Not in a gay way, he mused to himself in the split second between Dean's words and his own reply coming to his lips. Not to Castiel, anyway, though he was certain Dean's boyfriend probably had that covered.

Cas shook himself out of his thoughts, scowling up at Dean as he scrambled to collect his things with help from Meg, who had set her coffee down on the tile beside her as she worked collecting the various sheets of his unstapled essay. He'd planned on stapling it in class, now it was a crumpled mess. God, he'd probably be docked points for that.

"Would you mind telling me what your issue is, Dean?" Castiel snapped, storing a few books in his locker and brushing himself off as he stood in an attempt to maintain some of his dignity. "Does my face offend you? Perhaps I should just buy you a few more mirrors, though I'm sure you own dozens already."

The other boy offered little more than a snort and a roll of his famous green eyes. "Ouch, Cassie. That really hurts, you know? I think you popped a hole in my fragile ego." He flashed a lopsided smirk, messing up Castiel's hair condescendingly. "Lucky for you, I think I'll recover. No need for me to sue and take away your daddy's money."

Castiel's lips were already parted in preparation of a reply, but before he had the chance Dean was already walking down the hall with a small pack of laughing ignoramuses trailing behind him.

Meg glared at Dean as he left, though she'd be lying if his ass didn't look nice in those jeans. Still, he was a dick, so she brushed the image aside and picked up her coffee again, straightening Cas's tie for him as she stood as well. "Ignore him, baby," she crooned in hopes of soothing Cas's temporarily frazzled nerves. "He has nothing on you." She stretched up on her tip-toes, kissing the tip of his nose as he sighed.

"I just fail to see why he feels the need to be so cruel to me. There was only the one incident in middle school, could he really continue to be so bitter?" Cas asked. The question sounded rhetorical, though his head tilted to one side and his eyes narrowed in a squint of curiosity. He sighed, but she didn't reply. She just grabbed his hand in her own, guiding him to his first class.

* * *

It had been seventh grade when this ridiculous rivalry began. He and Dean had been good friends, actually, though a scarce few could even remember the days Castiel Novak laughed with Dean Winchester. The days Dean Winchester took the shy kid to the nurse in gym class claiming he had an injured ankle when Castiel was too nervous to kick next in kickball. To be fair, everyone would have laughed if he messed up.

It was dumb, really, Castiel thought. Bobby Singer, Dean's second father of sorts, had taken them home from school one day. Dean seemed different than usual, fidgeting in his seat and picking at the hem of his shirt, his self-assured smile gone. Dean asked if he could spend a couple of hours at Castiel's, to which Bobby agreed as long as he was ready to leave by six thirty so he could finish his homework that night with enough time to go to bed at a decent hour even after, no doubt, watching a movie with his little brother.

Bobby was good to Dean. Unfortunately, perhaps that was the one day Bobby should have said no. No, Dean, I need you to help with one of the cars at the junkyard. No, Dean, I want to show you somethin' down at the garage, new kinda spark plugs.

But no. Dean came inside with Castiel as the rich boy giggled, dropping to a crouch to ruffle his puppy's fur. His Siberian husky had been so small and fluffy back then, now a big ball of clumsy fur. Still, the smile remained absent from Dean's face. Cas at last grew concerned and tugged Dean upstairs by the sleeve, asking if he was alright. He said he was.

He wasn't.

"Cas, I..." he'd started, and Cas could still picture the way Dean had looked down to the floor of Castiel's room, scuffing his sock against the plush carpet. He'd swallowed hard, his cheeks and ears flushed red. "I'm scared."

That had really worried Cas. The boy moved closer, laying a hand on Dean's shoulder. "What is it, Dean? Is something wrong?" he recalled asking, head still tilted. That habit had just always been a part of him. "Is your father...did he...did he drink too much beer again?"

John Winchester had been getting better in those days, but less alcohol and shouting matches had meant he left Dean more, Cas knew. There was a time just months before that when he and Mary had nearly decided to divorce, but the one thing no one could deny was that they loved each other. Sometimes Castiel would get jealous that Dean had two real parents, even if one wasn't always fantastic.

Still, each time Mary had to go out of town for a work thing, Dean had started to spend more and more days per week at Bobby's with his little brother, Sam, a Freshman this year. He'd only been a fourth grader back then.

Dean shook his head, his teeth grazing over the curve of his lower lip. "No, but I don't know what's happenin' to me," he'd replied.

"What do you mean, De?" came Castiel's soft reply, genuinely concerned.

"Sometimes when I see boys...I feel stuff. Like, stuff I should feel when I see girls. Except I think I feel it for both of 'em."

After that, it was a blur. Cas had misinterpreted, thinking Dean had needed help. Castiel's own father was almost always absent, leaving him with his very homophobic stepmother Naomi. Cas had given Dean a bible.

That was when the shouting began.

It was barely four when Dean ran home, his green eyes filling with tears. Cas still didn't understand.

* * *

"Earth to Cas," Meg chuckled, throwing a potato chip at him. Cas jolted out of the hazy memories, blinking long lashes at his girlfriend. He glanced around, pushing a hand through his hair. Oh, right. Lunchtime.

"You sure you got enough sleep last night, Castiel?" she went on, smiling as she gently prodded his arm. "Maybe you should go home and take a nap."

"I'm fine," he mumbled half-heartedly, poking at his lunch with a plastic fork. The disinterest was clear on his face, though he tried to conceal it. He wasn't hungry. Something was eating at him, and he wasn't even sure what. Not precisely, anyway. Why couldn't Dean just leave him alone? Stupid Dean and his stupid boyfriend, they could go off and fuck each other as often as they wanted. Why bully Cas?

Meg shrugged and delved into some story about her parents, but Cas was only half-listening if he was going to be honest. He meant to, really, but Dean was off in the corner with his lips locked with some other boy's.

Well, that was hardly a private place to cheat, but Cas had only even seen the boy whose face was attached to the Winchester's a couple times before. Maybe Dean had figured three weeks was a long enough relationship and broke it off with the boy from the swim team, because even Cas knew this one played baseball with Dean when the season was right.

Not that Castiel cared. He just thought Dean was being ridiculous if he thought he could do such things and expect everyone to accept them. Those things were wrong. Boys kissing other boys or having sex or even lusting after such acts were wrong. Naomi told him so. He sighed and shook his head, getting up to put his tray away. He'd forgotten Meg was still speaking.

Well, shit.

"Where are you going?" Meg demanded, scowling. "I wasn't even finished talking."

Cas bit his lip, giving a weak smile. "Sorry. I'm sorry, maybe I really should skip out early," he muttered. Before she could continue, he scurried off to put his tray away and headed for the nurse. Usually the nurse that worked during lunch periods hardly cared who asked if they could go home, and he figured she'd let him leave without much fuss or any rounds of 20 Questions.

Of course, he'd failed to notice Dean leaving the cafeteria. The next thing Cas knew, his collar was being grabbed and he was dragged out of the building. He blinked against the bright light of the early afternoon, fruitlessly attempting to push Dean off of him.

Except there was more than one set of hands on Castiel. Dean had brought friends this time.

"Get off of me!" Castiel shouted, pushing against the bodies as they continued pressing closer. Their chests vibrated with laughter, shoving him roughly against a brick wall and pinning him there as Dean emerged from the small crowd of football players, a smirk on his face. Cas glared, kicking and shoving and trying to get loose.

It was a hopeless attempt.

"What's the matter, Cassie? You don't like boys touching you?" Dean asked, stepping ever closer.

Cas could remember the days in sixth grade when Dean had to teach Cas about personal space. Now it was Dean who was invading Castiel's space, and it put a knot in his stomach.

"What's your problem?" Cas yelled, frustrated now...or maybe frightened. Perhaps an unfortunate mix of both. His hands balled into fists where they were pinned at his sides, keeping them from shaking.

It was an odd time to notice Dean still had his freckles.

"My problem? My problem's you. I heard you were giving one of my boys shit the other day, Saint Cas. You got a problem with gay guys, huh? Bi? You ever tried it, Cassie?" Dean pressed on, not giving Cas a chance to cut in or answer even if he had a reply to give.

"Leave me alone!" Castiel finally got to interject, ending only with a hand over his mouth. Some sweaty, unfamiliar hand. Not Dean's, though Cas wasn't really in any position to look around and see whose it was, as if it made a difference.

"What if I just showed up at your big ol' mansion on the hill over there and let you try it out? No one would have to know," the quarterback purred.

It was an even stranger time to note that he still used the same cologne as in middle school.

Castiel knew Dean didn't mean his words by the playful tilt of his mouth and the brightness in his eyes, but it wasn't the same kind of teasing as when he hit his growth spurts first and held food out of Cas's reach. It was more bitter. More intimidating.

Dean wouldn't do the things he was going on about, but he liked the way it made Castiel uncomfortable. He deserved it a little, didn't he? This was all just a harmless prank.

Cas was never meant to get hurt.

"Let him go, boys," came the command at last, Dean's lips settling right into the same expression after. The sun hit the pinkness of them, highlighting the single freckle on his upper lip and the slight sheen of the Chapstick Dean loved so much. Perhaps that was the same flavor as years ago, too.

The other players seemed reluctant, almost disappointed they didn't have a chance to rough Cas up. Rather than listen to their quarterback and captain, they looked to each other with almost evil glances.

Cas lost track of whose fists hit him, perhaps most of the team but for Dean and Balthazar. Balthazar wasn't out here, of course. Couldn't have Castiel's brother knowing he was being pranked. Or, well, was the victim of a prank turned attack.

Dean tried to stop it, though there wasn't anyone there to really confirm that fact later on. His shouts fell on deaf ears, and by the time Cas fought his way out of the ring of laughing boys, his lip and nose trickled with blood and his body was battered and bruised.

Cas ran.

He ran as fast as he could, but someone had anticipated it. Someone knew that the prank was going to turn more vicious. Someone on the team strayed away from Dean's plan.

Azazel slammed on the gas as Cas ran through the parking lot. There was a sickening crack as the car collided with Castiel's body, sending him flying until he landed harshly on the pavement. His head hit first.

* * *

Oh, there was that blaring again. Morning already? That had been an awful nightmare, Castiel thought to himself. He tried to raise his hand to rub at his tired eyes, but someone pinned it down. Castiel frowned to himself, struggling weakly against the hold as he opened his blue eyes.

Someone knelt over him. Someone with bright green eyes and a spray of freckles over a sculpted nose, someone with a perfect curve to his upper lip and the small gleam of Chapstick clinging to his mouth as he spoke. Castiel's head was swimming, his ears struggling to understand what was being said. The world moved as if in slow motion, muted voices dancing through the air as reality hit.

Sticky. Something was sticky. His eyes trailed down to the green-eyed boy's hand and saw that it was covered in blood. Castiel's blood. The face of the other was frightened as he tore off a faded leather jacket, folding it and resting it beneath Castiel's head as the Novak coughed up blood.

A few drops of vibrant red landed on the beautiful, panicked boy's collar as he did so. Those forest green eyes, flecked with gold and swirling with a thousand shades of light, they were scared.

Sirens wailed in the distance. So that was the blaring, Castiel thought. Tears swam in the beautiful boy's eyes, his mouth seeming to form the words _I'm sorry. _

"Who are you?" Castiel whispered.


	2. Chapter 2

The green-eyed boy didn't reply. The fear in his eyes only grew, if that was even possible. He seemed to stumble over his own thoughts, his face blank as he stared down at Castiel's aching form.

Castiel swallowed thickly, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. God, everything hurt. Why was this happening? The annoyingly loud sound of sirens grew ever closer, but when Castiel opened his eyes and looked around, there was no one else there. It was just this frightened, freckled boy and Castiel.

He did see a car, though. Was he hit by a car? That wouldn't be good. Then again, most things that led to this kind of pain weren't good. His blue eyes, usually so vibrant and dancing with intelligence, were now all but empty. They managed to find the boy's face again, pleading silently for answers. Who was he? Why was he here? Why was _Cas _here?

Still, Dean remained silent. He was panicking. What could he do? While Cas had been blacked out for a few minutes, he'd called 911. Of course he had, he couldn't just _leave _him there, could he? No. No, of course not, but what else was there to do now but wait? He adjusted his worn leather jacket where it lay folded up beneath Castiel's head, his own shaking hand brushing through blood-matted black hair.

Some part of Dean found it hard to even recognize this body as Castiel. This bloodied, bruised body with blank blue eyes and hands sticky with red wasn't the same boy. He wasn't the rich, confident nerdy boy that still maintained a good heart even if it wasn't the most accepting thing in the world.

In truth, Dean had always known Castiel hadn't meant to hurt him back in middle school. He'd never called Dean names or told him he was going to hell, he just tried to...what? Cure him? To be fair, though, they'd both been in the wrong. Dean had always known Naomi drilled homophobia into Castiel's head from a young age, since the boy he knelt by now had lost his mother when he was just a toddler. Still, he expected him to instantly accept and be alright with Dean's interest in men. At least Castiel tried to "help" him, rather than kicking him out of his house.

Perhaps that made Dean the asshat here. Well, no, maybe not. Maybe they were both the ass, whether by accident or not.

What a great pair they'd turned out to be, though. Look at them now.

"It's gonna be okay, Cas," Dean finally breathed out, pale and nervous himself. Perhaps more so than Castiel, who seemed only to be confused and in pain. "You're gonna be alright."

This is your fault, Dean's mind told him. Again and again and again. This is your fault. You did this. You didn't want it to happen, but it's still your fault.

It made him feel sick.

Castiel just stared, parting cracked lips still trickling with blood almost a half minute later. "How can you know?" was all he asked, and then the ambulance was screeching into the parking lot.

The paramedics practically had to tear Dean away from Castiel's body, and for some reason Dean thought of all the movies he'd seen that had scenes like this. Usually, though, the two people involved were lovers.

Usually they ended with a widower.

By now, a crowd had formed around them, but Dean barely noticed. Upon hearing the sirens, practically half the school had showed up, gradually creating a semi-circle of onlookers. Some looked confused, some frightened, a couple just interested; then there were Castiel's friends, forming a separate little crowd. They clung to each other, whispering with lips paled by fear.

For the first time, Dean realized how much Castiel was loved. Not by everyone, but almost. Maybe if Dean had left him alone and just accepted the end of their friendship, the football team might even get along with the guy. His brother was on the team, after all, and Balthazar adored Castiel.

Dean wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out.

That feeling only intensified as Balthazar, Anna, and Samandriel Novak came lurching out of the crowd. All three pairs of classically long-lashed eyes were wide with terror as they did so, running to their brother's side as Castiel was strapped down and the paramedics prepared to load him into the ambulance.

* * *

There were a shit-ton of Novaks, to put it lightly. Samandriel, the sweet Freshman even Sam adored, was the youngest. Then came Anna, the only sister of the group. Poor girl. She was tough as nails, though, and beautiful to boot. Balthazar was next, followed closely by Castiel and the recently graduated Gabriel. Those three were practically inseparable, Dean remembered. He'd never forget the long nights of Marvel movie marathons at Castiel's house, Balthazar and Gabriel taking up the whole couch and Sammy falling asleep first and Dean and Castiel laying side-by-side on the plush carpeted floor.

After the younger Novaks, things got a little complicated. Uriel and Raphael were rumored to be Naomi's children, adopted by her before her marriage to Chuck Novak, the kind CEO-slash-author but almost always absent father with a slight love for vodka. Dean had never bothered asking if that was the full story. Then came Michael, Castiel's full-blooded brother though he was practically a little Naomi clone, strict on his little brothers but always "in their best interest", or so the young man liked to claim. Lastly came Lucifer, the most reckless yet accepting Novak. He adored their father and was perhaps overly loyal to him, but he loved his brothers too. He and Michael had a bit of a tense relationship, but Luce was usually good to Castiel and that was always enough for Dean.

It looked like Dean was the one Castiel had to be protected from now. His stomach clenched and twisted itself into about a thousand knots at that thought.

Dean wanted nothing more than to climb into the ambulance at that moment, to sit beside the paramedics and squeeze Castiel's hand and keep telling him it would be okay. Maybe more for his own sake than Castiel's, who didn't seem to understand enough to be afraid, but he still wanted to be by his ex-best friend's side.

Unfortunately, that wasn't going to happen. Not with Anna, Balthazar, and little Samandriel already climbing inside and the paramedics telling everyone that no one else should enter the vehicle. Too much of a crowd would only hinder their work. Before Dean could even think of an argument or draw up the courage to ask the Novaks if they'd even allow him inside, as they probably assumed this was entirely his fault, Castiel was loaded into the ambulance and the doors were closed in Dean's face.

The crowd remained as the ambulance rode off, the sirens back on again as it sped down the road towards the hospital and blew right by the red light at the intersection close to the school. Everyone was murmuring to themselves, and Dean could feel dozens of pairs of eyes on his back as he knelt alone in front of the crowd, holding his sticky, red-splattered leather jacket in shock and fear.

Finally, Dean's English teacher, the principal, and the school nurse stepped forward, helping him stand up again and telling him he should go home. At last, Sam seemed to finally be able to push through the crowd and came running forward, the only thing to pull Dean out of his shock enough to even notice the adults talking to him.

"Dean!" Sam cried as he came closer, staring at his brother with concern. "What happened? Was that Castiel? Is he gonna be okay?" His older brother didn't look quite ready for questions at the moment, but Sam couldn't help but try.

As expected, he didn't receive much of an answer, just a dazed look as Sam promised the teachers to get his brother home. He pulled out his cell phone and pulled Dean aside, calling Bobby and asking him to pick them up, explaining that Dean was in no real condition to drive right now.

Dean watched the ambulance become a dot in the distance before taking a right turn and disappearing for good, the wail of the sirens still reverberating in his ears.

* * *

Dean was stubborn as a bull, and he could put up a damn good argument when he wanted to. As he finally finished regathering his wits, he managed to convince Bobby to bring him to the hospital rather than to the Singer residence, population 1 gruff second father and 2 lost boys with a recently deceased father and a mother working her ass off on business trips all over the country to provide for them and their futures.

How would Dean be able to rest, he argued, not knowing how Castiel was doing? Not knowing if he was okay? Sam seemed just as reluctant as Bobby to give in to this argument, but in the end they conceded and brought him to the hospital.

Dean rushed inside, looking around for someone that could help him. Finding the reception desk and approaching it before Sam and Bobby even made it inside, he leaned breathlessly against the counter.

"I need to see Castiel Novak," Dean insisted, looking intently at the young receptionist. "Now."

The woman raised one delicate eyebrow, her eyes showing understanding though she kept her face in a carefully controlled expression of professionalism. She typed away for a moment on her computer, pulling something up. "Mr. Novak is in surgery at the moment," she replied, after what felt like years to Dean. "I'm afraid it may be a few hours before he is available for any visitors. Are you family?"

Shit. Dean swallowed thickly, thinking fast as he grabbed his wallet from his back pocket and pulled out a picture he hoped to God Bobby and Sam couldn't see as they walked up behind him. If they knew he'd kept this thing, they'd think he was the biggest wuss on planet Earth.

"Yes," Dean answered, setting the picture down on the desk. The woman looked to him curiously, taking it in a steady, manicured hand. On the front were two boys with their arms thrown around each other, smiling like there was no other place in the world they'd rather be than in that moment. They stood in front of an extensive mansion with a bounce castle and a slip-n-slide behind them, their swim trunks soaked and loose on their skinny hips.

When the receptionist turned the photo over, she saw 'Dean and Castiel, age 7' in Mary Winchester's graceful handwriting. She gave Dean a sad, pitying smile as she handed the photo back. "He'll be in room 313 when he comes out of surgery," she answered softly. "You may wait in the third floor waiting room, in the trauma ward. I'll have a doctor come get you when he's available for visitors."

Dean nodded and took the photo back, trying clumsily to conceal it from Sam and Bobby as he slipped it back into his wallet.

Their knowing looks told him he failed in his attempts. Suddenly, he didn't care. He ran to the elevator as if getting to the waiting room faster would make a difference, waiting impatiently with a tapping foot and just barely resisting the urge to kick the wall during the moments between hitting the 'up' button and the doors at last sliding open.

As the doors closed once more when the two Winchester boys and their secondary guardian were inside, it was hard for Dean to think of anything else but Castiel.

Dean and Castiel, age 7.

Best friends.

Dean and Castiel, age 17.

Enemies.

One's worst nightmare was still losing the other.


End file.
